PHD #139: The Inhumanity of Man to Man
The Inhumanity of Man to Man
Summary: Rejn pays his respects at the Memorial Wall.
Date: 15 Jul 2041 AE
Related Logs: Mercy
Bannik Sofia Evandreus Rejn 
Memorial Wall — Deck 9 — Battlestar Cerberus
The floorplating along the corridors of the Cerberus are standard military. Their forged steel plates are welded seamlessly together to run nearly the entire length of each hallway. The hallways themselves are the typical load-bearing structural design of the angled quadrilateral. Oxygen scrubbers and lighting recesses are found at nearly perfect intervals throughout the angled passageways.
Post-Holocaust Day: #139

It's taken him some time to work up the will or the courage to come here, this sprawling collection of memories made permanent by the men and women of the ship, this string of A-frame corridors where the lives of the anonymous masses have forever been frozen in time. Allan Rejn certainly cuts a strange figure among the small crowd gathered before this assortment of pictures, wearing as he is his trademark beige suit and his iconic red tie. The soldiers around him give him a wide berth, some of them going so far as to make quite clear from their murmured sneers their distaste for his presence — but none of them are sufficiently brave to tell him to leave. And so stick around he shall, pudgy hands clasped behind his back, a pair of photographs clutched in his fingers, a roll of clear tape jingling in his bulging pockets.

Poor Rejn. Sofia never thought she would think /that/. But she does, as she ambles up the hall, tools around her waist. She frowns, seeing people moving away and sneering. Sure, his nickname for her drives her batty but - c'mon. Stache of War's got heart. So cautiously, she inches over. "Hey," She greets him quietly. She looks to the wall, then tilts her head. Hey, he has photos?

Indeed he does — though held with their business ends downward, their content is rather difficult to make out at the moment. "Chesty." The man's usual growl is quiet, as befitting his setting. Social awareness from Rejn? Perish the thought. "Light in the guest berths is broken again." The one she fixed a few weeks ago after the triumphant conclusion to Operation Cobra Talon. "I'd make a note to investigate the supplier — I'm thinking we got a shit batch or something — but, well." His thick lips break into a smile beneath his moustache. "I think the supplier's got more pressing problems to worry about now that its shareholders have ceased to exist." Beat. "How're you doing?"

Bannik is enjoying some of his last hours out before he gets venerated and all of that. But he notes Rejn at the wall as well as Sofia. Rather than drifting away, he drifts closer, smiling at his snipe friend. He's just — there. Near Rejn.

Sofia pauses, and tries not to wince at her nickname. Gah. She just smiles and shakes it off. Although that smile soon fades. "Really?" A frown. "I'll try to get back in there then. I know there's been wiring issues like crazy," She rubs the back of her head. "It should be fixed today then," She bobs her head. She takes a deep breath and smiles as he comments about investigating the supplier. "Yeah. Something like that," She agrees quietly. She looks to the wall a moment. "I'm well enough, I don't feel so tired anymore. How about you?" She asks, not too eager to elaborate on her close encounter of the Cylon kind. And then - Along came Bannik! She smiles warmly at him and waves. "Hey there."

"Hi, Sofia." Bannik smiles. "Mister Rejn." That gets less of a smile, but still, Bannik doesn't seem quite as dismissive of the portly fellow as others are — or even he might have been — in the past. "What do you think all the problems with the wiring are, Sofia? Just ship builder errors?"

"Human error, willful or not." Rejn's low voice nevertheless drips contempt. "Could be worse in there. Could have been the galley fire all over again." Rejn allows his pictures to flutter behind him as he shifts his weight from his left foot to his right, his suit wrinkling as he moves. "Think those boys and girls got spots on this wall?" he wonders after a moment's pause. "I don't see them here, the poor fraks. They didn't die because of the Cylons. They got turned into charbroiled human filets because some frakking corrupt bureaucrat somewhere decided to cut costs by letting the lowest bidder win, safety be damned. But thanks be to the Cylons! Godsdamned machines fried so many we don't even have room to remember the ones we killed."

"Each and every one is a tragedy, Mister Rejn," says Bannik quietly, perhaps meeting that challenge. "I'd put all the billions up on the Wall if I could, if we had the space." He looks over the faces of those here. "It doesn't really matter how they died. Or when."

The stairs are the Bunny's best friend and worst enemy, at this point, the simple act of going up and down them doing wonders to work the long-standing ache from his thighs and back. He carries his new cane with its handle over his shoulder, gripping it in the middle of its length and using the railing, instead, to help him on his way down. He's done it so many times by now that he almost looks like a normal person walking down the stairs— though he still manages to stand out. People don't walk like normal folk down the stairs around here, after all. People move with a decisiveness of purpose which the Bunny seems endlessly to lack. He ambles. Like a man coming down his own front stairs to fetch the paper off of his lawn on a sunday morning he's eady enough to linger out and enjoy before going back indoors.

Sofia shakes her head, "Some of it is just shoddy material. For better or worse - I can see reasons why and why not, they used a low bidder. It's - really not good wiring." There's a disapproving, but understanding frown. On one hand, budgets. On the other, frakking wires. She winces and nods at Rejn's comment. "Yeah, I hope to keep that from happening again," She admits quietly. One of many Sofia is. She smiles at Bannik though. "It's not easy to yank all of the wires, but-" Well, yanking out an entire ship's wiring and replacing it is a Herculean task. She tilts her head. "I don't see why they wouldn't. It's a memorial. As long as you or someone remembers them…" She points out. "It's really tragic though." So stupid and preventable. There's a sigh. She's standing near Rejn and Bannik, quietly chatting. Her head turns though, noticing Bunny. There's a curious glance. "Hello." Poor Pilot.

"Really, boy?" Rejn looks faintly amused as a hand rises to scratch an itch in his moustache. "All of them. Now that's sure refreshing to hear, because these days it seems as if things are just Cylons this and Cylons that. And in the flensing fire of the largest genocide in human history all our sins shall be washed away, for who gives a flying frak about the inhumanity of man to man when the Cylons do it so damn better? Doe." His greeting to Evandreus is tacked onto the end of his sentence like a period; then, with a heavy sigh, he's handing his photographs to Sofia while he withdraws the roll of tape from his pocket. "Hold these for a sec, that's a nice girl."

Bannik glances towards the pictures that Rejn hands over to Sofia. "Who are those?" wonders the Specialist, glancing towards the fellow with the tape. "You came down here for a reason, I imagine."

Evandreus sets down the four rubbery feet of his cane, looking down the corridor and then turning his head up and around to look the other way down the corridor as he gets punctuated like that. He changes his intended angle of acceleration, wavering to one side before heading off in the other, going to meet Rejn and his companions by the wall. "Rejn. Hey," he answers the guy. He's getting to be a regular speedster with that cane, hardly holding up traffic at all, anymore. His free arm comes up and around to greet the guy with a half-hug about the shoulders, nothing to interfere with his finding the end of the tape on the roll.

Sofia watches the two a moment. She takes a deep breath. "Sure thing," A nod and Sofia takes the pictures carefully, as if her very touch might disintigrate them. She considers them for a second, smiling a little. Almost sadly. Then she looks up to see Evan to half hug Rejn. It's kind of a sweet moment. A look to Bannik and a shrug. She doesn't seem sure. There's a careful look to Evan, almost a shyness around officers in general. "It's good to see you all." Smile.

Rejn would accept the hug more gracefully than he does, but untangling tape is a difficult task indeed. The older man merely grits his teeth as he tries to slide a fingernail beneath the slightly-protruding edge. Eventually he manages to get two reasonably-sized pieces, both of which he sticks to his thumb before — finally — he pats the pilot on the shoulder with his free hand, doing his best not to bowl Evandreus over. "Nice cane," he says at last, his surprisingly high voice betraying just a hint of concern. "Anybody give you shit for it, just tell them they'd rather not have you whip out your other one." At that bit of raunchy humor, the former Secretary of Defense can't resist a short, barking laugh that causes a praying deckhand to look up in something like disgust.

She's ignored, though, as Rejn reaches over for his pictures with a muttered "Thanks. This one — " It's of a young man in a glorious tie-dyed shirt, smiling at the camera while standing on top of a tank. The wallet-sized photo is streaked with wrinkles and yellowed with age, and Rejn treats it with surpassing delicacy as he tapes it to what little bulkhead space he's managed to clear. "Roommate of mine at LSU Selinus. Justin Foster. Heart was in the right place. Also an utter frakking moron who probably wouldn't know a cow's tit from his mother's." Spoken with surpassing fondness — and a bit of sadness, too, though it may not be evident to those who aren't precisely attuned to the nuances in his tone. "He was into the Free Sag business before it got fashionable. Asks me one day to borrow five hundred cubits. I figure it's for drugs or some shit. Next thing I know, I'm watching the news and up comes his face. Stupid son of a bitch flew out to Aera Cura, bought himself a gun, and tried to shoot the police chief three times in the chest. Forgot about the security detail and its willingness to use indiscriminate force." Rejn shakes his ponderous head at the memory, cheeks falling, gut expanding as he breathes out. "Shit."

"Well," says Bannik, taking that all in, eyeing the picture in the large man's hand. "If he means something to you, he ought to go up on the Wall; don't let anyone tell you any different."

"You kidding?" Evan tells Rejn back, "These things are hotter than hot up in the berths. I'm, like, at -least- medium pimpin' by now." He keeps his voice low, for the sake of those nearby, but his tone's infused with levity enough to allay any fears Rejn might have for his well-being, without getting soppy. He's been taking lessons from Bootsies. And then he just looks down to the photo, listening to the story with a quietly respectful smile.

Sofia just shrugs it off as there's no response to her greeting. She just watches Rejn and Bannik then, tilting her head. A faint smile at the story, although the sadness - is /somewhat/ picked up on, but not entirely. It's a learning process. She winces at the story. Poor Rejn. She nods at Bannik. "I agree," She offers quietly. "That's what it's here for after all." Even if a person wasn't really loved in life, they were always close to at least one person right?

Rejn says nothing after those platitudes, which are met not with his usual caustic retort but a contemplative silence as he crosses his arms over his significant belly. Even Evan's rejoinder elicits nothing, not even a snort. The shoulderpads of his suit ride up to reveal the pinstriped collars of his sleeves. And then, without another word, the other photograph is being taped up as well, placed next to its counterpart with equal care. This one is —

"A horse," the man mutters, stepping back, not minding in the least that he's made his tie askew. A black one, to be precise, captured mid-gallop. "Just because."

Bannik considers this for a moment, looking at the picture. And then he shrugs. "Fair enough." Because, really, what can one say to a horse picture being posted to the Memory Wall?

Evandreus shifts his eyes toward Sofia, briefly, then returns them to the picture of the horse, quietly reverent for the taping-of-it-up. He lets a moment pass, then another. "Was that one of yours?" he wonders, at length.

Sofia blinks. She looks like she remembers something. "Oh." Then a smile. She nods at Bannik's comment. "I remember that one," She seems pleased. Despite the cylon cuddles, disgruntled drones and totally radical radiation, she /remembers/. Then a thoughtful look. "I don't think I'll spoil the story though."

"No, Doe," Rejn says shortly. "I just killed her." And without further ado he's stepping away from the wall, squinting eyes narrowed beneath his yellow-tinted glasses, that brilliant red tie shining brightly under the lights. It's with slow, tired steps that the man turns his back on the soldiers behind him, and when he plods off, it seems he bears more than the weight of his body on his feet.

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